


A Night so Black That the Darkness Hummed

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons has never believed in ghosts, despite (or maybe in spite of) working with a team of paranormal investigators. She's never found any proof that might suggest that ghosts and other things that go bump in the night are actually real. But a run-in with some unexplained occurrences and a clairvoyant who has her doubting her skepticism might make Jemma wish that she'd never gone looking for proof in the first place. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night so Black That the Darkness Hummed

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my official entry for the AOS Big-Bang 2015 edition! Thank you to ironbunneh for the absolutely amazing artwork for this story and thanks, as always, for making me look good! I apologize in advance for any typos and grammatical errors because they are all mine. The title comes from the song "In the Woods Somewhere" by Hozier. The bit of research I did for this story mostly came from the book "Spook" by Mary Roach (which is an amazing and fascinating read, seriously) and ridiculous Ghost Hunter shows on the Discovery Channel. I also did a lot of listening to the soundtrack for the movie "Sinister" while I was working on this, particularly the songs "Portrait of Mr. Boogie" and "Levantation" so if you feel like this story needs a soundtrack you should give it a listen!

**Please check out ironbunneh's fantastic[art work here!](http://pizza-is-my-buziness.tumblr.com/post/128870082088/a-night-so-black-that-the-darkness-hummed)**

 

 

There's no moon tonight, leaving everything bathed in shadow. There's a flashlight in her hand but she keeps it off, squinting through the darkness and trying to determine what each of the shapes are. The fast approaching winter has already caused the trees to drop most of their leaves; the branches are long and slender, skeletal as they reach toward the ground. Jemma stares at them impassively, unmoved. She understands _why_ people could be frightened by them…though if they took a moment to think logically, they would discover only trees.

Jemma exhales slowly, watching her breath plume out in front of her. Not for the first time, she feels like a complete idiot. It's far too late and far too cold to be outside right now.

Jemma turns around and runs smack into someone, eliciting a surprised squeak from her lips, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest. The flashlight in the hand of her companion clicks on and she finds herself staring at a very amused Bobbi Morse. "Did I scare you?" She teases.

"Scaring and startling can hardly be considered the same thing." Jemma informs her tersely, taking a step backward. "What are you doing?"

Bobbi gives her a look. "What are _you_ doing?" She retorts. "Standing here in the dark? You're going to trip over a headstone and break your neck."

Jemma shakes her head. "I was merely getting a feel for the place." She tells her frankly. "I do not intend to go jumping over gravestones."

"A feel for the place." Bobbi repeats, her tone slightly mocking, "Now you sound like you've been drinking the Kool-aid."

Jemma laughs and the sound rings out around them, crisp and startling in the cool air of the graveyard. She feels briefly guilty, merely because it feels disrespectful to be laughing in a place where people come to pay respects to their dead loved ones. She knows plenty of people who would argue that laughing in a graveyard is a sure to upset the ghosts that wander around after dark but she would simply laugh in their faces instead.

"Hardly." Jemma assures her, patting Bobbi on the shoulder. "I was only trying to decide the best places to set up the equipment, that's all."

They've had conversations just like this one plenty of times before. Bobbi knows better than to try and get Jemma Simmons to believe in spirits.

"I think Coulson wanted to set up toward the front." Bobbi says instead, swinging the beam of her flashlight back in the direction that she'd just come from. "I guess he wants to see more of the graveyard?"

Jemma finally switches on her own flashlight as they start back across the plots. She does her best not to step on or trip over any of the crumbling, lichen covered headstones or disturb any of the flowers or trinkets on the newer graves. They're hardly the first people to set foot in a graveyard in the middle of the night but she's not going to be responsible for some grieving family member showing up tomorrow and finding flowers scattered across the cemetery.

Just as Bobbi said, Coulson and May seem to have settled on setting up the equipment near the entrance. May is focused on the tablet in her hands, preparing to record anything that they see or hear and the readings gathered by the other pieces of equipment. Jemma is certain that her notes are going to remain relatively sparse and uninteresting. After all, she'd been standing out in the middle of the cemetery for a solid twenty minutes and the only thing she heard had been the rustle of an owl peering down at her from a tree branch.

Honestly, she has no idea why people even bother with these sorts of things anyway.

Though, Jemma supposes that she should probably turn her judgment away from the general population and focus it inward. After all, she didn't have to agree to using her PhDs to join a group of paranormal investigators.

Beside May, Coulson is pulling on the headphones that will help him listen for any sounds that register above or below normal human hearing. Things like ghostly whispers or demands. Things that don't exist. Fitz is unpacking the EMF meter, one of his own design so that it can get clearer and more detailed readings of the changes in the electromagnetic fields around them. Most of the equipment they use has been designed by Fitz, making them the envy of most other ghost hunting teams out there. Most experts in the field seem to have come to the universal decision that Coulson's team provides the most accurate readings and research in the field.

For whatever that might be worth.

Jemma switches off her flashlight, slipping it into her coat pocket so that she can rub her gloved hands together. It seems to be getting colder by the minute, though she's pretty sure that has more to do with the mid-November weather and nothing to do with the presence of spirits.

"Is there any coffee left in the bus?" Jemma questions, looking hopefully up at Bobbi.

Bobbi gives her a grunt in response, her attention solely on the camera in her hands. She's twisting another lens onto the front of it, one that will help them capture any cold pockets or heat signatures in the otherwise lifeless cemetery. Jemma decides to take the noise as an affirmative response and heads toward the bus, which is really nothing more than a beat-up old van that Coulson dug up from some junkyard where it was down to one working wheel. Most people would have decided that the van was not long for this world and moved on to something a little less…rusty. But Coulson had deemed it perfect. "What better way to search for signs of the paranormal than in a half-dead van?"

The bus runs just fine now, thanks to Fitz and Mack and the cargo space is loaded with monitors and radios they can use to record and track their progress. When Jemma pulls back the door, Hunter nearly jumps out of his skin, whirling around to face her. "Bloody hell," he grumbles, "are you trying to give a guy a heart attack?"

Jemma rolls her eyes at them, climbing into the back of the van. "Hunter, aren't you getting a little tired of jumping at shadows?" It's too cold to leave the door open, so she hauls it closed again, shaking the whole mobile command unit. "Is there anymore coffee?"

Hunter grumbles in her general direction, no doubt taking offense to her previous comment. He still hands over at Thermos that is still warm to the touch, so obviously his grudge doesn't run that deep.

"I don't understand you, Simmons." Hunter regards her thoughtfully as she sips from the Thermos. "If you don't believe in ghosts, what's the point?"

Jemma gives him a pointed look. "No one _actually_ believes in ghosts." She tells him. "Aside from maybe Coulson."

Sometimes, Jemma thinks that her boss is still just a kid at heart, walking into haunted houses and accepting dares to spend the night in cemeteries for the fun of it. Because accepting the idea that there's nothing else out there is just too boring.

"Bobbi believes in ghosts." Hunter tells her frankly, taking the Thermos back from her. "Ask her about Patches."

Jemma rolls her eyes. "Not the ghost dog story again." She grumbles. "Bobbi knows it was just you, Lance."

Hunter frowns, furrowing his brow. "Spoilsport." He declares finally, turning his attention back to the monitors.

Jemma decides wisely to remain silent. She wraps her arms around her knees, drawing them up to her chest in an attempt to warm herself up, regarding Hunter curiously. Sometimes she thinks that he only joined Coulson's team to continue to torment his ex-wife, though his adventurous sensibilities seem to be on par with Coulson's.

Hunter doesn't seem to mind having Jemma keeping him company in the back of the bus, which is a relief because she's starting to think that it's far too cold to be gallivanting among the headstones tonight. They watch the live feed from the monitors in silence, passing back the Thermos of coffee and sharing a box of Animal Crackers. At some point, Jemma's eyes start to become heavy and she nods off, slumping against the old CB radio that Coulson seems to keep around primarily for nostalgic purposes. They've certainly never contacted spirits on it.

Jemma wakes up when the door to the van gets wrenched open again and Bobbi and Fitz pile in, hauling in the boxes of their equipment. The bus rumbles to life with May behind the wheel and Coulson in the passenger seat beside her, talking happily like it's not three in the morning.

"Did you find any ghosts?" Jemma questions sleepily as Fitz settles in beside her.

Fitz shrugs, switching on the camera. "Maybe." He says, showing her the screen.

There's a pinprick of light above one of the older graves, clearly visible in the darkness surrounding it.

"Dust particle." Jemma says dismissively after a few seconds of studying it.

Fitz smiles at her, shaking his head and turning the camera off again, dropping it back into its bag. "You are quite the contradiction, Jemma Simmons." He tells her fondly.

Jemma isn't going to argue that particular point.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It takes nearly six hours of driving to make it back to what can loosely be termed an "office," which Jemma thinks it's sort of sad considering the fact that Coulson is one of the leading experts on hauntings and things of the demonic nature. She wonders if the people who always request their aid and input on "mysterious occurrences" and "ghostly presences" have any idea that their command center is on wheels and their office is in the basement of Coulson's house.

Jemma spends the next several hours upon returning pouring over the photos and video and audio recordings, combing through each moment for something that can be deemed worth further investigation. The man who asked them to look into the cemetery lives in the house overlooking the property and is convinced than there are a multitude of spirits that haunt the place each night, which is a perfectly logical reason for his landlord to let him out of his lease early. Jemma has to hand it to him; he certainly believed that he was seeing something or he was a very convincing actor.

Unfortunately, it looks like he'll be stuck trying to figure out a better way out of his lease.

"I think it's ghost free." Jemma informs the team frankly, dropping down onto the end of the sofa not currently occupied. Hunter is asleep on the other end, his feet nearly brushing against her thighs. "Sorry to report."

Of course, this hardly comes as a surprise to the rest of them, who braved the wintery weather to get the footage that Jemma just looked through. She has a feeling that people find their "company" to be so reliable because most of their files are marked with a ghost-free seal of approval.

Despite Coulson's obvious joy in gallivanting around and searching for ghosts, Jemma thinks that her motivation for taking a spot on the team is to do everything in her power to disprove the existence of spirits and other Halloween entities. Plus it pays the bills.

Her parents are so proud.

Not.

One thing that Jemma has never understood is the fascination that people seem to have with the paranormal. Even as a child, she could never wrap her head around it. The girls she attended sleepovers with loved to stay up late whispering ghost stories to one another by the light of candles; they were always utterly baffled by the fact that Jemma never seemed to have a hard time getting to sleep after these lurid tales. Even when she was at the university getting her first PhD, the other students who lived on her floor –most of them older than herself- loved to spread around urban legends about the campus, claiming that the old English building was closed because of a murder spree that happened there sixty years ago. Jemma had earned a great deal of credibility during a party when she'd accepted dare to go into the building and stay inside for five minutes. Everyone had been drunk, which Jemma is sure is to blame for the shock and awe they'd experienced.

That was also the night she'd met Fitz, the only other person who didn't seem to think that she was going to be eaten alive by the ghosts of supposedly murdered students. Of course, he was also the one who managed to convince her to join Coulson's team so Jemma is still debating how well that friendship has worked out for her.

The endless fascination and belief in the supernatural means that their e-mail inbox is always full with requests and stories of hauntings and demonic possession. Coulson seems to have decided that his personal mission in life is to reassure people that their house isn't infested with ghosts and that they don't have to go bankrupt to move away in order to save themselves for possession and a grisly end. Jemma can definitely appreciate this goal, even if she does feel bad for the people involved for being so superstitious that they can't convince themselves of this without the help of an accredited ghost hunting team.

People looking for an entertaining, live-action episode of _Ghost Hunters_ are definitely disappointed when Coulson's team shows up. Especially when May gets involved. Jemma is pretty her stoic, no nonsense expression would be enough to chase away any ghosts, should they actually exist.

It's only been a day since their foray into the graveyard when Coulson informs them that they're going to Utah to respond to a particularly beseeching e-mail sent by a young woman who believes that the house she's living in is haunted by demons. "She sounds very sincere," Coulson informs them as he instructs them to pack their bags, "and very afraid."

Jemma figures that's as good a reason as any to head off into the middle of nowhere to take pictures and video of nothing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hannah Hutchins greets them at the foot of the driveway, her eyes wide and watery, like she spends the majority of her time trying to resist the urge to cry. Jemma can't help but notice that her fingers are red and raw where she's bitten her nails to the quick and torn at the cuticles. Her face floods with relief as she shakes hands with Coulson, nearly tripping over her words as she thanks them all for coming. Jemma climbs out of the back of the bus, eager to stretch her legs and get a better look at Hannah. She's young, only a few years older than herself if she had to guess; her cornstalk blonde hair is lank and limp, her eyes look bruised from nights without sleep. A cross hangs from a simple chain around her neck and she can't help but notice that Hannah's hands go to it often, fingering it nervously as she talks.

"I moved in about a month ago?" Hannah explains as they walk up the drive toward the house. Jemma has already figured out that nearly everything she says comes out like a question. "My grandparents used to live here but I never got out to visit much? They left the house to my brother and I and we were going to sell it but I just lost my job so I thought it might be worth sticking around for a while. But now…now…" She only shakes her head, worrying her cross again.

"Perhaps you could sell it." Jemma suggests gently, readjusting the strap of the bag hanging off her shoulder. Even though they're only getting a feel of the place, it never hurts to have the equipment with them. Just in case. "That might be easiest."

Hannah looks at her, eyes watering. "I've tried." She admits softly. "But no one is buying?"

Coulson gives her an understanding smile, resting his hand on Hannah's shoulder. "Don't worry, Miss Hutchins. We'll get this all sorted out." He assures her.

Hannah nods but doesn't seem entirely reassured but she nods anyway, opening the door and gesturing for them to step into the house.

The place is undoubtedly old, the sort of home that does seem to inspire ghost stories and the prickling of hair on the back of your neck. It has a second story and, if Jemma had to guess, a cellar; the ceilings are high, the wallpaper old and peeling. There are no shortage of rooms and the furniture looks like it's been there since the house was first built. Jemma has no idea how one woman could possibly hope to make a place this large feel like home all by herself. There's not even a cat or dog sneaking around the corners to keep her company.

There's a fire burning in the fire place in the parlor and a blanket folded up neatly on one of the high-backed chairs, a pillow sitting on top of it. Bobbi notices it as well and glances over at Hannah. "Have you been sleeping in here, Miss Hutchins?"

Hannah nods, her eyes cutting nervously toward the stairs. "It seems…better?" She looks up the staircase once more before taking a step back. "I try not to go up there."

Curiosity gets the better of her but before Jemma can ask why, exactly, Hannah is avoiding the upper levels of her own home, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the house. In unison, they all turn back toward the front door, curious.

"A friend?" Coulson questions, a hopeful sort of smile on his face.

But Hannah just shakes her head. "I…I called another expert in the field? I hope that's okay?" She looks at them fearfully. "Not that I don't trust you all but I thought…every little bit might help? She's a little early..."

Coulson nods, understanding. "Whatever you want, Miss Hutchins."

The bell sounds again and Hannah hurries to the door, pulling it open and revealing a woman standing on the welcome mat. She's still wearing her sunglasses, successfully hiding her eyes from view, and has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Everything about her seems to suggest an effortless sort of apathy, from the jacket hanging from her shoulders and the mismatched socks that Jemma can see poking out of the tops of her combat boots. One of which is unlaced.

"Hannah Hutchins?" The girl questions and the very top of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow emerges from the top of the left lens. "I'm Skye."

Hannah bobs her head up and down eagerly, stepping aside to let the woman step into the house. "Yes, I'm glad you're here." She says, angling her body so that she can take in both sets of people at once. "Mr. Coulson, this is Skye, she's the clairvoyant I-"

Jemma can't stop the laugh that escapes her lips and even though she tries to cover it up by clearing her throat, it's obvious that no one believes that she was just coughing. Lest of all Skye, who looks at her with interest, a sly smile turning up the corner of her lips.

"I'm sorry." Jemma says quickly, clearing her throat once more. "It's just…a psychic? Miss Hutchins, I can assure you that that won't be necessary."

Hannah rubs at her cross once more, looking between Jemma and Skye, unsure of how to proceed. And even though Coulson is hardly one to sing the praises of those who bill themselves as mediums, he looks at Hannah and says, "I'm sure we can sort it out."

His tone doesn't give away the fact that he's called people like Skye charlatans on more than one occasion. Of all the things in the world that Jemma thinks she _could_ believe in…someone with clairvoyant abilities certainly isn't one of them.

Obviously Hannah doesn't think so. She looks more relieved now that Skye has joined them than she did when Coulson and the rest of the team walked through the front door. A bit of the tension seems to relax from her shoulders and she clutches her necklace tightly. "Thank you all for coming." She whispers.

"We'll figure out what's going on here." May says firmly, the closest to warm that Jemma thinks she's likely to get when consoling the people who give them a call. "Where would you like us to start setting up?"

This question seems to take Hannah by surprise and she looks from Coulson to May and back again. "Oh…I…wherever you like? The dining room is spacious…"

Hannah leads them down the hallway and Jemma somehow falls into step beside Skye, unable to keep from studying the other woman out of the corner of her eye. Skye certainly doesn't look like the type of woman that she's seen before who attempt to pass themselves off as psychics and fortune tellers. There's no black eye makeup, no dark nail polish or macabre themed clothing. She looks like a college girl who happened to step off the bus in middle of nowhere Utah.

"We should take a look around." Fitz remarks absently as he sets one of his cases down on the dusty dining room table. He withdraws his EMF reader, switching it on and testing the device. "See what sort of readings we get. There could be…" He lowers his voice so Hannah can't hear, "evidence of carbon monoxide or infrasound."

Jemma nods, feeling better already. There's something about this house that's got her skin prickling and the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She's not used to getting such a reaction when she walks through a graveyard or a supposedly haunted house. There's something about Hannah that Jemma thinks is giving her that reaction; the depth to which people believe in something can often influence the reactions of others. But Fitz's explanations are solid, even without any sort of research or poking around. Both of those occurrences, especially the presence of carbon monoxide, can result in the firm conviction of seeing spirits and experiencing other hallucinations.

When Jemma follows Fitz out of the dining room and toward the sweeping staircase, she's surprised to see Skye following after them. Skye notices her response and shrugs. "I thought it was a good idea, getting a reading of the house."

They start up the stairs and Jemma rolls her eyes. "You don't have to continue this charade with us." She informs Skye frankly. "We know it's all a con, a way to get money out of poor Miss Hutchins." She frowns, disgusted by the idea. "Doesn't it look like that poor woman is suffering enough."

"Yeah, it does." Skye says, seeming unbothered by Jemma's accusations. "Kinda way I'm here. I'd like to help."

Jemma only scoffs, shaking her head.

They reach the top floor and Jemma immediately starts shivering, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She notices Skye looking at her expectantly and she just gives her a pointed look. "Obviously this level of the house isn't being heated. Hardly solid evidence of ghosts."

Skye smirks. "I didn't say that it was."

There are five doors on this level of the house: three toward the left and two to the right. There's also a door above but the drawstring is out of reach, a sure sign that Hannah probably isn't going up into the attic very often. It still might be worth checking out; faulty piping could be the cause of strange noises and thumping against the walls.

All of the doors are closed tight and Jemma wonders just how long Hannah has been avoiding this level of the house and what has been keeping her confined to the downstairs parlor.

From up here, it's nearly impossible to hear the sounds of the rest of the team, making Jemma feel like she's closed off and completely isolated aside from the company of Fitz and Skye. No wonder Hannah is feeling like she's being plagued by spirits; the large, old house is enough to give anyone the shivers.

Fitz heads down the left fork of the hallway first, his focus completely on the device in his hand. Not only is he scanning for jumps in the electromagnetic field but for traces of gases or disturbances in the sound waves. With no other ideas, Jemma follows after him, though Fitz is so engrossed in the screen that she and Skye might as well not even be there at all.

Skye trails after them for several steps before glancing toward the door closest to where they're standing now and stepping toward it. She seems to hesitate only briefly before twisting the knob and pushing the door open. Skye peers into the room before stepping over the threshold.

Curiosity compels Jemma to backtrack and follow Skye into the bedroom, remaining in the doorway while she watches the younger woman. The room is full of boxes and furniture that looks like it's nearly a century old. Everything is covered in dust and shoved haphazardly around the room with no discernable organizational plan. The floorboards are bare, covered in dust and the heels of Skye's boots make an impression as she attempts to navigate through the clutter.

"Feeling anything interesting?" Jemma questions, unable to get the skepticism out of her voice. "Seeing an spirits? Talking to the dead?"

Skye shakes her head, running her fingers along the brass railing of the bed. "That's not really how it works." She says, wrinkling her nose at the dust on her fingertips.

Jemma looks at her dubiously. "So you've never seen a ghost?"

"Sorry to disappoint." Skye shrugs, moving toward the closet door.

Even though the last thing Jemma wants to do is continue this conversation, she feels the words jumping off her tongue before she can stop them. "So how does it work?"

"I'm not really sure." Skye replies. "It's mainly just feelings I get, or impressions." She reaches for the closet door knob but doesn't close her fingers around it. "Or memories."

Skye quickly pulls her hand away, taking a step back and heading back to where Jemma is standing. "We should find Hannah's room."

Jemma steps aside to let Skye brush past her and then she peers back into the room, letting her eyes rest on the closet door. That weird, anxious feeling is back, mingling with the chills running down her spine. A part of her wants to step into the room and throw the door open for herself. But the other part of her turns and follows Skye down the hallway.

Fitz is standing in the middle of the bedroom that Jemma assumes belongs to Hannah, mostly because it's not cluttered with junk or suffering from signs of disuse. But it looks like it hasn't been involved in a good week or two; the pillows and comforter are missing from the bed and she's pretty that they're going to match what she saw downstairs in the parlor. The closet door is shut and there's a cardboard box set in front of it, a rather ominous sight. Though Jemma has no idea when she started walking into these situations and thinking about things as being ominous rather than being a hoax or having a suitable explanation.

"Everything appears to be normal here." Fitz remarks, finally looking up from the device in his hands. "No readings from the air quality or infrasound meters." He shrugs. "Or the EMFs."

Jemma glances around the room, stark despite the fact that they know it's inhabited. "So there's nothing here."

Fitz shakes his head. "Doesn't seem like it."

Skye just crosses her arms over her chest. "I wouldn't go that far."

Jemma looks at her and just barely manages to refrain from rolling her eyes. Forgive her if she doesn't go about taking the advice of a clairvoyant. She'd rather trust Fitz's readings.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's strange having someone else around. Jemma has spent the past several years of her life traveling around with Coulson and the rest of the team, establishing a repertoire and relationship with them, understanding their personalities and what makes them tick and how to defuse tension when they've been together in the bus for far too long. But now she turns around to discuss something with Bobbi or May and finds Skye lounging off to the side, watching them with interest but taking no part in the conversation. Jemma can feel Skye's eyes on her and she tries to ignore her presence. Hopefully Skye will figure out that they've got plenty of actual scientific equipment here and they don't need her shams. After all, they'll be able to prove that she's lying pretty quickly.

They've managed to take over the dining room in a short amount of time, setting up the equipment and the monitors and cameras. Coulson has complied a list of information from talking to Hannah, though Jemma gets the feeling that he's a little dissatisfied with the things he's found out so far, like Hannah isn't telling him everything.

"She says that the strange noises and sensations happen at night." Coulson explains. "No specific time that she's noticed, no specific information."

"You think she's lying?" Bobbi questions, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that Hannah is still out of earshot. She's busying herself getting blankets and pillows for the rest of them, obviously pleased to have something to focus on.

Coulson shakes his head. "Not lying, exactly." But he doesn't bother to elaborate.

Jemma can't stop herself from glancing over her shoulder to look at Skye. Skye hitches a shoulder in a half shrug but doesn't comment.

"We should set up the equipment." May says. "Place time lapse cameras in the rooms upstairs, get the infrasound and air quality monitors hooked up. Before it gets dark."

Fitz and Hunter nod, turning back to the table still cluttered with cases and pieces of equipment. They lose themselves in the familiar routine of simply doing something, falling into the old grooves and patterns. The next time Jemma thinks to look up from her work to see what Skye is doing, she's not surprised to find the girl in the exact same place she was just in, lounging in one of the high-backed dining room chairs with her legs draped over one of the arms, typing away on her phone.

"Aren't you going to make yourself useful?" Jemma questions, bumping one of the large sound records against Skye's booted foot. "Conduct a séance or something?"

"Oh, that will be later." Skye replies, deadpan, without looking away from her screen. "Want to watch?" She looks over at Jemma only long enough to wink at her.

Jemma scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Hardly." She huffs out a breath, grabbing one of the external microphones and breezing past Skye and out of the room.

Hunter smirks at her as she heads up the stairs. "She seems nice." Jemma just ignores him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They order Chinese takeout and all crowd into the parlor room around to fire to eat. The silence is amiable, despite the tension that is practically radiating from Hannah and the unfamiliar presence of Skye, who seems perfectly happy to eat all the Crab Rangoon.

"So, there's one thing I've been wondering." Skye says when the Crab Rangoon finally runs out. Her gaze is focused on Jemma. "You don't believe in ghosts or…any of this stuff."

Jemma gives her a withering look. "Goodness, you really are psychic."

Skye ignores the jab, continuing on like Jemma never spoke at all. "So how did someone who doesn't believe in any of this stuff end up being a part of a ghost hunting team?"

This isn't the first time that someone has asked Jemma this question. Of course, this isn't the first time that Jemma has asked herself this question. She frowns, toying with the chopsticks in her hand. "It's more about disproving hauntings than actually hunting ghosts." She says finally. "Science always trumps superstition."

Skye nods thoughtfully. "It's just interesting, is all. I mean, someone with two PhDs who graduated at the top of her class…you could have done anything. Yet here you are."

Jemma stares at her, surprised. She's been trying to avoid speaking to Skye as much as possible; she's definitely not been divulging her academic history to the woman. "How…"

"It's easy to read you." Skye replies, picking up a carton of egg rolls. "Jemma Simmons, biochemist extraordinaire. This is more exciting than being in the lab like you thought about doing, right?"

Jemma tries to keep her face blank but doubt and confusion are fighting to take over. "How do you know all those things?"

Before Skye can answer, Bobbi starts laughing but she quickly tries to hide it, covering her mouth with her hand and coughing. Jemma looks back at her, narrowing her eyes in suspicion before looking back at Skye. Skye grins at her, shrugging innocently. "Good guesser?" She hazards playfully.

Jemma looks back at Bobbi, who has a guilty grin on her face. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who's behind Skye's sudden insight. The rest of the team chuckles, smiling and she narrows her eyes, getting to her feet. "Very funny." She mutters, grabbing her water bottle and stalking into the kitchen.

She's still fuming with embarrassment and indignation when Bobbi walks into the kitchen, an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." She says, coming to stand beside Jemma. "Don't be mad at Skye, it was my idea."

"Why would you care if I was mad at Skye?" Jemma questions, still prickly. "You act like I'm the only skeptic in the room."

Bobbi shakes her head. "You aren't the only skeptic." She relents. "But you're the only one who doesn't seem to think there's any other explanation."

Jemma lets out a frustrated breath, setting her water bottle down on the counter with a little too much force. "Because there aren't any other explanations, Bobbi. This is a case of carbon monoxide poisoning or faulty water pipes or…Hannah trying to get out of being stuck in this place because no one will buy it from her. Ghosts…psychics…honestly, Bobbi."

Bobbi holds up her hands defensively. "Yeah, you're probably right." She relents. "I guess we'll see what happens tonight."

"Nothing will happen tonight." Jemma says decisively.

She's certain of it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma is setting up one of the tripods in the upstairs hallway when she hears footsteps behind her. A glance over her shoulder reveals Skye standing there, watching her with a touch of uncertainty in her eyes. When she sees that she has Jemma's attention, she smiles apologetically. "Sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have listened to Bobbi."

"It's fine." Jemma tells her shortly. "Though normally I suspect people are being teased for actually _believing_ in ghosts."

Skye nods, raising her eyebrows in agreement. "Yeah, that's true."

There's a part of Jemma that's curious, that wants to ask Skye to elaborate on the certainty in her tone. But she doesn't. She just continues working with the camera, securing it firmly to the tripod.

"What are you doing?" Skye questions after a moment, crossing the distance between them. She peers over Jemma's shoulder, looking at the camera.

For a brief, childish moment, Jemma thinks about ignoring her and finishing up with her work. But she steps aside to allow Skye a better view of what she's doing. "I'm setting up this camera, which is connected to a thermometer. If the thermometer senses a drop in temperature, it will trigger the camera to take a picture." She points to the wiring. "If there are ghosts in here, we'll certainly have them on film."

Skye makes a thoughtful noise. "Don't you think this is…sort of like tempting them? All this equipment, all these things you're doing to get the spirits riled up…you're tempting them to do something."

Jemma finishes up and then starts back toward the stairs with Skye in tow. "Assuming there's such a thing as ghosts, which there isn't." It's becoming a refrain that she's very familiar with. "Besides, getting apparitions to shove themselves is exactly _why_ we're here. I'm glad you seem to think this is some sort of sleepover but we're here to work."

"And here I thought we were just going to braid each others hair and talk about boys."

Smirking, Jemma looks over at Skye as they head down the staircase. "It would be a short conversation."

This response seems to please Skye, or at least make her grin.

They join May and Coulson in the living room; they've been sitting with Hannah, trying to keep her company and to reassure her that nothing is going to happen. Fitz, Bobbi and Mack are in the dining room, having drawn the first watch to keep an eye on the activity on the monitors. The parlor is cozy, despite the circumstances under which they've all gathered in the room. The fire is still going strong and there's a pile of wood stacked and ready to keep it going throughout the night. The rest of the lights in the room are off but the flames provide enough light to see by. The furniture has been pushed toward the walls, leaving plenty of room with the pallets to be spread out across the floor. It's hardly going to be the most comfortable sleeping arrangements Jemma's ever had but it could be worse; she could be shivering in the van wishing for more coffee.

Hannah, however, doesn't seem lulled by the glow of the fire or the presence of the people around her. She's just sitting cross legged with the comforter from the upstairs bed draped over her shoulders, holding onto her cross and whispering to herself.

"It's okay." Skye says, resting her hand on Hannah's shoulder. "There's nothing in here. You're safe."

Even though Jemma doesn't believe that Skye is actually in possession of the gifts that she claims she is, she's suddenly grateful that Hannah at least believes. Relief flickers across her eyes and she seems to relax slightly, reaching out and taking Skye's hand, holding on tightly. "You're sure?" Her voice wavers as she asks the question.

Skye smiles, nodding. "I promise."

This seems to relax Hannah enough for her to eventually drift off to sleep, cocooned in the comforter with her fingers still wrapped around her necklace. With nothing more to do for the moment, Jemma decides to follow suit, laying down on the floor between Hannah and the place where May is currently sitting and writing in a journal across her lap. The heat from the fireplace and the comfort of May's steady presence beside her make it easy for Jemma to slip into sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma has no idea how long she's been asleep when she wakes suddenly, her heart hammering in her chest, uncertain as to what has pulled her out of her sleep in the first place. It takes her a minute to even remember where she is; the flickering flames from the fire are casting odd shadows across the bookshelves and furniture all around her and there's a strange chill in the air despite the steadily burning fire.

Beside her, Hannah suddenly jerks upright, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. She lifts her finger, pointing at something with a trembling hand and Jemma is almost hesitant to turn her head in the direction of where Hannah is pointing. But her good sense takes over and she quickly whips her head toward the foyer. There's nothing.

"Hannah?" Coulson's voice is soft, comforting. "What's the matter?"

"There's…something…" Hannah swallows, scooting backward and bumping against the ottoman behind her. "Something there."

May is already moving across the room, stepping over Skye and Fitz still curled up on the floor. She grabs the bottom of the comforter and whips it off without missing a beat. "There's nothing, Hannah." She says. "See."

The only thing there is Hannah's bare feet. Jemma can see that her skin is prickled with goosebumps and it makes her shiver again.

"No." Hannah says softly. "There was…something is there. I felt it. It grabbed my foot."

Coulson gives her shoulder a squeeze, offering her a reassuring smile. "There's nothing." He says again. "I promise."

When Hannah looks at him, her eyes are wet with unshed tears. "There's _something_."

Jemma looks toward the place where Hannah's feet were resting only moments before, searching for some reasonable explanation for what has got her so worked up. A twisted blanket, a stray shoelace or piece of clothing. The floor is bare and unobstructed. Of course, this hardly means anything but it would have at least helped reassure Hannah.

"It grabbed me." Hannah says, looking over at Jemma as though begging her to believe her. "I felt it. I know there's something there."

Jemma smiles at her, patting her knee. "Perhaps it was just a dream." She offers hopefully.

Hannah doesn't say anything but Jemma can tell that she doesn't believe her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the night passes without further incident, though no one gets much sleep between rotating the watch on the equipment and the unspoken concern that Hannah will have another episode. She seems so convinced that there's something dangerous, something ghostly in the house that Jemma is honestly starting to worry about her well-being.

Predictably, the equipment has been silent and still all night, the readings even keel and normal. However, Coulson decides that they need to increase the surveillance, especially since there were no cameras in the parlor or in the foyer pointing in the direction of the large room, so they have nothing to reassure Hannah with. Unfortunately logical, good sense doesn't seem to be doing much to make her feel better.

Jemma walks through the downstairs area, tying strings with bells around each of the door handles, counting the rooms as she goes. There are six rooms on the main level, plus the kitchen and each one aside from the parlor is drafty, cold and closed off. She flicks one of the bells with her nail, listening to it tinkle. They're really pulling out all the stops here; it seems that Coulson and May's main intentions are just to prove to Hannah that there's nothing to worry about, rather than try and figure out what is actually going on. They've no proof that anything out of the ordinary is going on in the house, aside from Hannah's fears and Skye lurking around and trying to spook them all with faraway stares and campfire tales. But if Coulson thinks they need to add more cameras and use parlor tricks then that's what they'll do.

The last door Jemma has to deal with is the one leading toward the cellar. "Fitz," she calls in the general direction of the dining room, "we should get some cameras for down here, don't you think?"

She reaches for the door knob and Skye saying the word "stop" nearly makes her jump out of her skin. Skye doesn't yell at her or seem panicked by this occurrence but her tone makes Jemma start nonetheless and she jerks her hand away instinctively, whirling back to face the other woman.

Skye is standing on the fifth stair, obviously in the middle of returning to the main level of the house, and she's looking at the cellar apprehensively. "Don't go down there."

Jemma gives her a look of impatience. "Afraid of basements?"

"Just that one." Skye joins her on the main level. "Just don't go down there, okay?"

Jemma is about to protest, to throw the door open out of spite, but then the bell around the handle gives a soft little tinkle and she thinks better of it. "Just a draft." She informs Skye frankly, taking a step backward. "Cellars are known to be quite drafty."

Skye doesn't return her attempts at a smile or look all that amused by Jemma's attempts to rationalize what just happened. She's still watching Jemma intently, her eyes seeming to bore through her. "Seriously. Don't go down there."

"Fine." Jemma throws up her hands in defeat, pushing past Skye and heading back toward the dining room. "We'll stay out of the cellar."

Mack looks up when they come stomping into the dining room and shakes his head. "Wild horses couldn't get me down into that cellar."

Skye smirks, patting him on his broad shoulders. "Finally someone here who has a bit of sense."

Jemma sits down in one of the high-backed chairs, picking up Fitz's specially designed full-spectrum goggles and sliding them over her head. It's too bright to see anything and the room is too crowded with other influences but at least she looks busy. This is the worst part of the whole process, she thinks; normally they're in and out pretty quickly, a night or two at most. But she feels a little bit like they're getting ready to occupy the place and it makes her antsy. She's never been good at just sitting around and doing nothing.

"There you are, Skye," Jemma remarks absently, "Mack believes you're actually a clairvoyant."

Skye sits down next to Hunter. "Then Mack and I will be the only ones left alive to say I told you so."

Hunter jerks his head up, looking slightly panicked. "Hey, now, I didn't do anything to you. I don't want to be eaten by any angry ghosts."

Jemma glares at the both of them. "You're being ridiculous."

"Says the girl wearing giant, green goggles." Skye retorts. "You look pretty ridiculous yourself."

"I'm working." Jemma informs her frankly, holding up the slender, metal wand like she's actually intending on taking a reading of the room. "And you should be too. Or did you forget to bring your Ouija Board?"

"No, it's in my bag. Right next to my dousing rods." Skye says, her tone flat and her eyebrow arched. "Want to go find a well?"

Jemma rolls her eyes so far back in her head that she's actually impressed that they don't get stuck that way. "I'd prefer you use your exceptional talents to convince Hannah that there's nothing here so we can all go about our lives."

Skye makes a face of disappointment. "But we're having so much fun."

"Yes." Jemma grumbles, glaring at the tablet in her lap. "It's a blast."

After a few moments of silence, Skye gets up and leaves the dining room and the sound of the creaking stairs suggests that she's venturing to the second level once more. As soon as she's out of the room, all three heads swivel in Jemma's direction; Fitz is looking at her expectantly, Mack somewhat pityingly and Hunter with a goofy grin on his face.

Jemma looks back at them. "What?"

"Nothing." They all manage in unison, immediately returning to their tasks like guilty children.

Another, equally impressive eye roll is lost on them. But it makes Jemma feel better.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From above, the sound of a bell ringing. Almost immediately, the din of sound in the parlor falls away and all heads look upward, as though they can somehow see through the ceiling and to the upper level. They've been gathered in the parlor for the past several hours, stuck in one of those weird holding patterns that drives Jemma absolutely crazy. She has a scientific journal spread open on her lap but even that hasn't been enough to completely distract her from the tedium of sitting around and waiting for something to happen.

And now, it seems, that something is.

As surreptitiously as possible, Jemma counts heads in the room. They're all there and accounted for, even Skye, who is staring out into the hallway, her face impassive and her hands clinched into fists.

The bell jingles again and Jemma whispers, "A draft" like she did earlier, when the bell rattled on the cellar doorknob.

Then comes the sound of one of the upstairs cameras snapping a picture, the sound echoing through the house. The temperature sensitive cameras are responding to an abrupt drop in the temperature upstairs, perhaps the kind that is caused by a draft? If it wasn't for the heavy, nervous tension that is suddenly settling over the room, Jemma is certain that she wouldn't feel a shiver skittering down her spine right now.

Bobbi and May are the first out of the room, heading upstairs to check the cameras and see what might have been the cause of the jingling and the sudden chill spreading through the house. Jemma hopes they can finally nail something down, something to reassure Hannah and prove that there's nothing here to be afraid of.

Jemma follows Fitz and Mack into the dining room to check the equipment and Skye comes after them, though Jemma notices that she hesitates in the hallway, staring in the direction of one of the closed bedroom doors.

Against Jemma's better judgment, she hears herself asking, "What's the matter?"

"I saw something." Skye says softly, shaking her head as though to dispel the memory from her mind. "Or…I felt something. It was…a little boy…"

Jemma searches her face, trying to read her features. She's dealt with supposed mediums before, had to subject herself to their rambling stories about things they see and feel and hear. But this is nothing like that. If Skye is an actress then she's had plenty of time to hone her abilities.

"There's nothing up here." Bobbi calls down from the top of the staircase. "Nothing on the film, either. Did you guys get anything?"

"No." Mack answers and Jemma can hear a tinge of frustration in his voice. Unfortunately, the burden of proof seems to fall on them to prove that the house _isn't_ haunted, rather than the other way around. Finding nothing is as bad as getting some sort of solid proof of a spirit. "Nothing."

Jemma looks back at Skye, who is still staring at the closed door. "Skye." She says firmly and Skye seems to jump a little. "What…"

"Nothing." Skye turns around suddenly, returning to the parlor.

Coulson and Hunter are still sitting with Hannah, trying to reassure her and offering promises that there's nothing in the place to be afraid of. They're both equally surprised when Skye walks right up to Hannah and grabs her wrist, lifting her arm and pushing back the sleeve of her sweater. Hannah makes a sound of protest but it's too late; they can all see the dark bruise around her wrist, like someone held on too tightly for too long. Or maybe like someone had her tied up.

"There are others, aren't there?" Skye guesses, letting go of Hannah's wrist when she tries to pull away. "More bruises, more marks."

Hannah takes a step like she's going to hurry out of the parlor but she seems to think better of it, glancing over at Coulson before looking at Skye beseechingly. "It's okay." Skye says softly. "It's not your fault. It's happened to be me before, too. It just means…something in here is angry."

Jemma frowns, unsure of what to make of this display. She's about to tell Skye to cut it out when Hannah reaches for the edge of her sweater, shifting it up to display a smattering of bruises and marks down her side. Some of the bruises are fading, nearly gone. Others look quite fresh.

"Hannah," Coulson says gently, "you should have mentioned this before."

But Hannah only shakes her head. "I thought…I thought it might make you all decide to leave. That you might think it was dangerous and not come and help me."

"We're here to help." Coulson assures her. "We're going to get to the bottom of everything."

Hannah nods, hopeful, and Skye takes her hand, giving it a squeeze. Jemma is still watching them curiously, unable to get a feel for Skye or what she just witnessed. A very talented actress indeed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"This still doesn't mean anything." Bobbi points out later, when it's just the team gathered in the dining room, ensuring that everything is in place for nightfall. "Those bruises could be from anywhere, anything. Unless we see one magically show up on her skin there's no way to prove where those bruises came from."

May nods, her expression thoughtful. "She could be doing this to herself." She says. "People have gone much farther in setting up a hoax before."

Jemma is relieved that this is the direction their conversation has decided to go in. She's not sure that she could handle her friends talking about ghosts and hauntings and unexplainable bruises and blaming everything on the supernatural.

"There's nothing on the monitors." Fitz points to the bay of screens set up on the table. "Nothing on film…nothing picked up by any of the equipment."

"No traces of carbon monoxide, no unstable pipes or evidence of infrasound vibrations." Hunter frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "Could she just be making all of this up?"

"Well, she's incredibly convincing, if she is." Coulson adds.

Jemma looks at him. "With all due respect, sir, there might be no other explanation."

Coulson looks amused by her comment but doesn't bother to contradict her. Which is good, because she knows exactly what he was going to say. Thankfully, her other explanations don't involve ghosts or demons. No matter what Skye might insinuate or think that she sees.

"A hoax." Mack repeats and there's just a touch of skepticism in his tone. "You really think that's what it is?"

Coulson is the only one who hazards a reply. "Well, I don't feel comfortable leaving until we're certain, even if it does seem likely."

Jemma worries her bottom lip, considering carefully what she's about to say. "Sir…perhaps you should…insist that Skye leaves." She looks at her boss warily as she makes the suggestion. "If Hannah believes that there's someone here who believes her…"

"I don't think that will be necessary." Coulson tells her. "Having Skye around isn't a terrible idea and I'm certain, if necessary, we can catch Miss Hutchins in a lie."

Jemma nods, surprised by the response flooding through her. She'd expected to feel disappointed or annoyed by Coulson's decision that having Skye around wasn't doing any harm. But she's just feeling a strange sense of relief at the idea of her hanging around for a little bit longer.

After all, she's really a scientist at heart and she feels like there's still plenty about Skye to study and understand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"That is…a very interesting sandwich." Jemma figures that it might be smarter to dance around the issue rather than flounce right in and inform Skye that the dinner she's concocting for herself is quite disgusting. Even if Jemma is pretty sure that she would be well within her right to point something like that out.

Skye doesn't look over at her, continuing to drop tiny marshmallows on top of the bread, which is already slathered with peanut butter, honey and sliced bananas. "Oh, it's not done yet." She assures Jemma. "I can make you one if you want."

The idea turns Jemma's stomach. "That's quite all right." She says quickly. She watches as Skye carefully carries the pieces of bread over to the toaster oven, putting them onto the tray. "Where on earth did you learn to make something like that?"

"Who can ever explain pure genius?" Skye questions, hopping up onto the counter so that she can wait for her sandwich to finish and face Jemma at the same time. "I promise it's better than it looks."

This time, Jemma can't stop herself from making a face. "I'll take your word for it." She assures Skye.

The smile that Skye gives her is quite pleasant and it nearly makes Jemma smile back in return. But it's not enough to distract her from the original purpose of hunting Skye down. "How did you know about Hannah's bruises?"

"Are you sure you want the answer to that?" Skye questions, lightly knocking her heels against the cabinets below.

Jemma sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. "So it was some sort of vision, then?"

Skye shrugs. "A vision. A feeling…whatever."

Despite Skye's openness before, Jemma suddenly has the feeling that she's not getting the whole story. It's quite infuriating, especially given the fact that she's pretty sure she wouldn't believe Skye even if she told her everything.

"So…this…psychic thing…" Jemma begins, albeit grudgingly, "is this something you…inherited from your parents?"

Skye just shrugs. "If you ever find them, you should definitely ask them."

The toaster oven dings and Skye pulls out her bread, apparently unbothered by the temperature as she fishes it off the tray and drops it onto a plate. The marshmallows have melted slightly and gotten crispy at the top but Jemma still finds it incredibly appalling.

She looks back toward Skye, trying to read her expression. "I'm sorry." Jemma offers tentatively. "I didn't…your parents…"

"You didn't know." Skye says, taking a bite of her creation. "I grew up in an orphanage, so I never got the chance to ask my parents what the deal was with all this ghost shit."

"I'm sorry." Jemma says again, almost automatically, though she immediately wishes that she could come up with something more original to say.

Skye doesn't seem bothered by her platitude. "Trust me, I was the best at telling scary stories after the nuns called lights out."

This only seems to add to the growing mystery that is Skye. Jemma doesn't do well with mysteries, never has; even as a child, her parents tried to discourage her from reading Nancy Drew books like the rest of her peers because she was obsessive in her desire to solve the case long before Nancy herself. It's undoubtedly one of the reasons that this whole situation with Hannah Hutchins is so infuriating. There are so many unknowns, so many uncertainties and it's really starting to drive her crazy. Skye only adds to them.

"So…you've always been able to see ghosts and…get these visions?" Jemma questions thoughtfully.

Skye looks at her sardonically. "Sounds like you're starting to believe me after all, Dr. Simmons."

Jemma scoffs. "No, I wouldn't go that far." She assures Skye. "I'm simply trying to get all the pieces of the story together. How can you be expected to understand something when you don't have all the information."

"Maybe you can't understand everything." Skye points out, finishing up her first piece of toast. "Ever think about that?"

"No, that's not an acceptable way to look at things." Jemma says firmly. "I can assure you, there is always a way to understand and explain something."

Skye just smiles at her and it makes Jemma feel even more like there's something she's not privy to. Well, that certainly won't be the case for long.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's past midnight but it doesn't seem like anyone is in the mood to get any sleep, though Jemma is trying to blame that more on the fact that they still have to rotate who is watching the monitors and really what's the point of trying to catch a few hours' sleep anyway? But there's tension hanging heavily in the air and she can't figure out if they're all just letting the day's events get to them or if Hannah's demeanor is starting to influence the rest of them.

Thankfully, Coulson has found a deck of cards so they at least have something to do aside from stare at the wall and try to make shadow puppets by the light of the fire (Hunter) or glare at the machines and wait for something to happen (Fitz).

At the moment, Bobbi, May and Mack are in charge of keeping an eye on the bay of monitors and Fitz is sitting beside her with an EMF meter on his lap and an ultrasound motion sensor resting by his knee. Skye is the only one who doesn't seem to be plagued with insomnia; she's slumped in a lounge chair with her head leaning in her palm, her feet dangling off the side. She doesn't look comfortable but at least she's able to get some shut eye.

"You really are pretty terrible at playing cards." Coulson remarks, giving Fitz a pitying look. "I can always tell when you're bluffing."

"Maybe _that's_ part of my plan." Fitz retorts, casting a furtive glance down at the cards in his hand. "Maybe I want to throw you off guard."

Of course, Jemma knows a lie when she hears one but she's not going to blow Fitz's cover. She's about to reach for a card from the deck when something knocks loudly on the floor above their heads. Jemma looks up, a useless gesture but an instinctive one. The next time, the banging seems to originate from the wall of the parlor, rattling the books on the heavy oaken shelves.

Hannah lets out a whimper, trying to make herself smaller as she presses herself into the corner of the love seat.

Almost immediately, the room becomes colder and Jemma's skin prickles with goosebumps despite the fire still blazing behind her. The monitor in Fitz's lap suddenly crackles to life and his mouth drops open in an expression of surprise as he stares down at the screen. There are subtle spikes, a sign that an electromagnetic field is being emitted.

Suddenly Skye jerks upright, letting out a gasp of air, her breath pluming out in front of her. Perhaps it's just because they're closer to the fire, but Jemma can't see her breath or Fitz's; it's hard to believe it's so impossibly cold near where Skye is sitting.

Skye swings her feet down to the floor, standing up slowly, her eyes focused on a spot near the open parlor doors. When Jemma looks, there's nothing there. Of course there's nothing there. But Skye doesn't seem to have received that memo.

Another banging sound from above is quickly followed by the rattling of one of the bells and Hannah presses her hand to her mouth, shivering nearly as much as Skye. Across the hallway, Jemma can see Bobbi getting to her feet, picking up a flashlight and a camera loaded with high-speed film, heading toward the staircase.

"Don't." Skye says hoarsely but her eyes don't leave the spot by the doors, even though Jemma assumes that she's talking to Bobbi. Not that Bobbi seems to listen.

At least the sound of Bobbi's footsteps on the floor above are reassuring; they're solid, tangible and easy to explain.

"Skye…" Hannah's voice trembles as she tries to speak, unwilling to uncurl herself from her protective position. "What is it?"

Not that she sounds like she really wants to know.

Jemma gets to her feet, looking at Hannah and then Skye. Hannah looks like she's going to die of a heart attack right there on the love seat and Skye…well Skye is doing an excellent impression of someone who looks like they've just seen a ghost. "Stop it." She says but her voice comes out to barely a whisper. "That's enough."

"What is it?" Hannah leans forward and Coulson puts his hand on her shoulder, like he actually thinks Hannah is going to get up and investigate for herself.

Skye's breath is still coming in soft white clouds, quick and short puffs that match the quickened rising of her chest. "A boy." She whispers. "A little boy." She shakes her head but can't seem to pull her eyes away from the spot.

"Weird." Fitz mutters and that's honestly the last thing that Jemma wants to hear the moment because everything is weird and it's really starting to piss her off. "The batteries must have…"

Jemma looks down at the EMF meter in his hands; the screen is blank and still.

Skye takes a step forward, looking like she's about to extend her hand out toward the empty expanse of air but in the end she just curls her fingers into the palm of her hand. "We're here to try and help." She's saying to something that isn't there at all. "We want to understand what's happening here."

Hannah starts muttering to herself, rubbing frantically at the cross around her neck and whispering what Jemma assumes to be pieces of some prayer that she thinks will somehow make everything better. Her eyes are wide and wild, feral with panic.

"Stop." Jemma says to Skye, more forcefully this time. "Can't you see that you're making things worse? You're upsetting her."

Not that Skye seems to hear her. "There are so many children." She exhales, a faraway look in her eyes. That, more than anything, sends a shiver down Jemma's back. "All these dead children."

Jemma crosses the room, grabbing onto Skye's shoulders and pulling her backward, nearly driving them both down into the armchair. "Enough! I think you've certainly earned your salary with this little performance, haven't you?" She holds tightly to Skye's shoulders, giving her a shake. "Now stop playing around."

Skye looks over at her, her eyes wide with a deeper fear than Jemma has seen even in Hannah's face.

And then Bobbi screams.

Surprise seems to keep them all frozen in place, immobilized and uncertain. And then Bobbi screams again and Hunter springs to his feet, nearly tripping over Fitz in his hurry to get out of the parlor and to the staircase. May and Mack are hurrying after him and Jemma can't help but note that Mack at least had the wherewithal to grab one of the cameras as he went.

Hannah is whimpering, her face buried in her hands, seeming unaware that Coulson has already left her side, making a dash toward the stairs. Jemma moves toward the hallway but hesitates before going up the stairs, looking up toward the balcony. Bobbi lets out another scream but she can also hear Hunter and May trying to talk to her, reassuring and attempting to calm her down.

Jemma looks toward the parlor, where Fitz is staring at her with an open mouth and the color drained from his cheeks. Skye has returned to the armchair, slumped over and utterly expressionless.

Within moments, May and Hunter have brought Bobbi back downstairs, standing on either side of her in an effort to help support her. "What happened?" Jemma questions, hurrying over. "Bobbi, what's the matter?"

"Get the first aid kit." May says through gritted teeth, moving Bobbi into the parlor.

When Jemma returns, first aid kit clutched tightly in her hands, she sees that they've managed to push up Bobbi's shirt, leaving her back exposed. Three long, slender marks run the length of her back, like something with large, hideous claws took a swipe at her.

Claws. What a very unsettling thought.

Unfortunately, Jemma has no other explanation for it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Stop babying me." Bobbi snarls, swatting Hunter away when he comes within range. "I'm _fine_."

Hunter steps back, holding his hands up defensively. "Yeah, you look real fine." He retorts. "But whatever you say, Barbara."

Bobbi gives him a glare that Jemma is glad not to be on the receiving end of. She thinks the smartest course of action is just to keep her head down and finish changing the bandages on her back.

"I think you'll live." Jemma assures her once she finally finishes, tugging Bobbi's shirt back down.

"Of course." Bobbi snorts, rolling her eyes. "It's going to take a lot more than that to take me out."

Jemma starts to speak but then wavers in her conviction; or maybe it's not the question that has her doubting herself but whether she actually wants the answer. In the end, her curiosity wins out. "What exactly happened last night? It looks like…a wild animal…"

"Well there were no wild animals up there." Hunter chimes in from his spot safely out of Bobbi's range. "There was nothing."

Bobbi turns around to face Jemma and the look on her face doesn't exactly instill her with confidence. She has the feeling that she's not about to get the solid explanation that she's so desperate for.

They haven't had a chance to talk things over, seeing as they spent the remainder of the night performing triage: trying to calm Hannah, trying to doctor Bobbi, trying to…move past Skye's odd behavior. In the light of morning, Jemma has to admit that Bobbi's injuries don't look as terrible as they did last night when everything was colored by panic and confusion. But there's still no discernable cause for them either.

"I don't know." Bobbi says finally, almost apologetically. "It was…there was nothing."

Not exactly what Jemma wants to hear right now.

Fitz and Mack come into the room, carrying the majority of the upstairs equipment between the two of them. Fitz scowls, dumping the contents of his arms onto the table. "The batteries in all of these were brand new as of last night. And now…nothing. And some of these…ruined…we've got nothing."

"Slow down, Turbo, most of these just need new batteries." Mack lays a hand on Fitz's shoulder, a reassuring gesture. "Then they'll be good as new."

Fitz picks up one of the cameras and a few of the pieces are dangling by a single, twisted wire. "I don't think batteries will fix this one."

Jemma isn't quite sure she wants to know what fate befell that particular camera. Perhaps it was up too high and fell or…or…

She looks back at Bobbi. Again, she opens her mouth to speak but this time words completely fail her. How she is supposed to talk about logic and good sense when Bobbi has claw marks down her back from an unknown assailant? This is not a situation that she's very comfortable with.

"I'm going to make some tea." Jemma says instead, gathering up the old bandages and gauze and alcohol wipes. "Anyone want some?"

There are general grumbles but no one seems particularly interested in her offer, too focused on a variety of other things that require their attention. Jemma walks into the kitchen, surprised to see Hannah already sitting at the table with a mug of steaming coffee in between her hands.

"Good morning, Miss Hutchins." Jemma greets as she tosses the bandages into the trashcan. "How are you feeling?"

Hannah smiles and it almost looks genuine. "A little better." She assures Jemma. "It's weird…I almost feel better knowing that I'm not going crazy…that you guys can see and feel everything too and I'm not the only one."

Jemma sits down in the chair opposite of Hannah's, offering her what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "I know it can be…quite scary and confusing but I can assure you that we will get to the bottom of what's going on here."

Hannah gives her a look that suggests that she knows that Jemma is completely full of shit, whether or not Jemma wants to admit this to herself. But honestly, what is she supposed to go? Go around admitting that there are actually ghosts and spirits in the house?

No thank you.

Movement catches her eye and Jemma turns her gaze toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the side of the kitchen. The view beyond the glass is impressive and beautiful; the yard spreads out before them, stretching down a slope and toward a cluster of woods thick with trees and undergrowth. As impressive as the view is, it only serves to make Jemma feel like they're even more isolated.

She can see Skye outside, walking slowly with her head down and her hands stuffed into her pockets. Seeing her makes her stomach turn, undoubtedly due to the scene from the night before. She might have overreacted a little bit but Jemma isn't entirely sure that she regrets how she responded to Skye's foolishness.

She's also no longer sure that it was foolishness.

"What is she doing?" Jemma says quietly, more to herself than to Hannah sitting across from her.

But Hannah answers anyway. "Looking for something." She shrugs. "She asked me earlier if she could go outside and have a look around."

Hannah doesn't mention what Skye is looking for and Jemma doesn't ask. She has a feeling that Hannah didn't exactly pry for that particular piece of information.

"You're wrong about her." Hannah says and Jemma looks at her, surprised. "What you said last night…I'm not paying Skye to be here."

Jemma is pretty sure that she doesn't do a very good job of hiding her surprised expression. "Oh?"

Hannah nods. "She just wants to help."

Jemma frowns, looking back out the window and toward Skye. She's definitely getting the impression that there's more to this woman than meets the eye.

"Perhaps I should go and speak to her." Jemma mutters, already getting to her feet. Hannah smiles and nods but Jemma is already halfway to the back door.

Outside the air is sharp and clear with cold and Jemma wraps her arms around herself as she heads down the stairs. She can see her breath twisting in front of her, a reminder of the night before; only Skye's breath had been visible, something she still can't wrap her head around.

Skye looks up when she gets closer, a watchful look on her face. Jemma is pretty sure that she deserves the lack of warm greeting but that doesn't mean that she's not disappointed. After all, Skye does have a nice smile.

"Good morning." Jemma attempts breezily, coming to stop in front of Skye. "Taking a walk?"

Skye shakes her head. "Not exactly." She tells Jemma. "I saw you talking to Hannah; I'm sure she told you why I was out here."

Jemma nods. "She said you were looking for something. But she didn't say what."

Skye's smile is back, at least partially. "She doesn't want to know."

If Skye wanted to explore a career as a one of the charlatan psychics that they all hold such disdain for, she would do an excellent job of it. Her comments even manage to send a shiver down Jemma's spine.

Skye turns away, starting back on her meandering exploration of Hannah's property. She doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry, doesn't seem to be heading toward any certain spot. And she also doesn't seem to mind when Jemma follows after her, keeping close on her heels.

"I'm sorry about last night." Jemma blurts out finally, feeling a touch relieved that she actually managed to get the words out. "I might have…judged you a bit too harshly."

Skye looks over at her, obviously attempting to gauge how sincere her words are. She shrugs. "It wouldn't be the first time." She assures Jemma.

"Yes, I'm sure." Jemma agrees. "If you really…" She stops herself, frowning. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Skye assures her and she seems more like the girl that she's been since Jemma first laid eyes on her: somehow open and carefree despite the oddities that surround her. "I know this isn't easy for you."

Sighing, Jemma nods. "You're right about that." She mumbles. "Obviously something that we can't explain yet happened to Bobbi last night. I'm…willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Did that hurt?" Skye questions, teasing. "Was it painful to say that?"

Jemma makes a face at her. "A little bit."

They walk in silence for several paces until finally the curiosity is too much for Jemma. "Where are we going?" She questions, looking at Skye expectantly. "And what _are_ we looking for?"

Skye frowns, glancing back toward the woods. "I think we need to go in there." She says and Jemma wonders if her slow walk through the yard has been an effort to put that off. "And we're looking for…something buried."

Jemma doesn't like the sound of that. But she likes even less the fact that Skye is skirting around the issue. "Just tell me what we're doing out here." She rolls her eyes. "What made you decide to go poking around in the woods?"

"Last night." Skye says as they start toward the tree line. "The little boy I saw…he's not the only spirit here. There are others, mostly children."

Everything in Jemma's mind rebels against what Skye is saying to her. She wants to roll her eyes and head back to the house, wants to tell Skye to save the camp fire tales for someone who will actually believe that there are dead children hanging around the house. But the marks on Bobbi's back…the state of the equipment this morning… _benefit of the doubt, Dr. Simmons_.

"And it's…these children who are causing Hannah all this trouble?" Jemma frowns around the words as they leave her mouth.

"No." Skye shakes her head, holding back a branch for Jemma to duck under as they move deeper into the forest. "There's…something else."

"Something else?"

Skye shrugs. "Well, when you have a bunch of dead children hanging around a house you usually have the people who murdered them too."

Jemma frowns, scrunching up her nose. "What a cheery idea." She grumbles.

"Last night, I saw some of the children and-"

"Wait a second." Jemma interrupts, coming to a stop. "I thought you said you'd never seen a ghost before." She regards Skye warily, though with a brief surge of victory. Has she finally managed to trick their expert clairvoyant after all?

But Skye doesn't seem bothered by her question. "I never have. Not until last night." She tells Jemma. "Normally it's just visions, like I'm stuck in the memories of someone during a particular moment in time. But this…this was different. It's more powerful than anything else I've ever experienced."

The most frustrating thing about Skye, Jemma thinks, is that she really wants to believe her.

"And these children…they told you to come out into the woods and search for something?" Jemma questions, keeping her attention on her feet to avoid tripping over the gnarled branches and roots.

Skye nods. "Pretty much."

"Lovely." Jemma grimaces.

She doesn't realize that her foot has been ensnared until she's pitching forward, losing her footing and doing an embarrassing windmill impression as she tries to keep from falling face first onto the forest floor. Thankfully Skye grabs onto her before she can completely lose her balance, holding onto her as she shakes her ankle free of the offending root.

"Thanks." Jemma says, clearing her throat and stepping back.

She blames the brief flush that she feels on embarrassment.

That, and the fact that Skye really does have a nice smile.

However, the smile disappears pretty quickly when they finally stop walking and Skye stares down at the ground, which looks completely unassuming in Jemma's opinion. There's nothing about this particular spot that seems to suggest that there's something out of the ordinary about this place but that doesn't stop Skye from saying, "It's here."

Jemma nudges at the blanket of leaves and pine needles but there's nothing underneath but earth. "Did you bring a shovel?"

Skye looks up at her. "Shit."

Let it be known that this is definitely not what Jemma wanted to do when she woke up in the morning. Kneeling down in the woods and digging through the dirt with her bare hands is not usually on her list of things to do for fun but here she is anyway. Digging in the dirt with a psychic after just spending the night in a haunted house. Her parents would be so proud.

Finally Skye stops digging and leans back on her heels, her eyes focused on a spot in the dirt. Jemma can see exactly what she's looking at: a scrap of burlap, dirty and damp. She looks at Skye expectantly. "Well?"

"Well?"

"Aren't you going to see what else is down there?" Jemma presses. She did not come all this way and dig in the dirt to stop now.

Skye swallows and leans forward again, taking a deep breath. She takes the scrap of burlap, pulling and trying to brush aside the rest of the dirt; Jemma helps her by digging around, though it quickly becomes obvious that whatever is buried down there is larger than their little hole.

But eventually they clear away enough of the dirt to actually see what's concealed in the burlap sack.

Though Jemma immediately wishes they had just stopped while they had the chance.

They've unearthed a bone, frail and dirty but unmistakably a bone. Jemma has the inkling that there's more to be found if they just keep digging.

In unison they move back from the hole, getting to their feet. Jemma looks over at Skye, who appears to be just as unnerved as she feels right about now.

"Shit." Skye says again.

It seems like the only thing Jemma can possibly say in return is, "Shit."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The feeling that has settled over the house is one of general unease and the feeling only seems to grow stronger as time goes on. They spend the majority of the time not talking, simply waiting for something to happen.

When the sun finally sinks behind the tree line once more, Jemma's sense of foreboding only grows. She hates herself for falling into this trap, for letting her mind run away with her and convince her that there's something to fear in the shadows. They've never done a job quite like this one before. And she's never had cause to look so suspiciously at the shadows before.

Jemma settles in the dining room, tugging a blanket off the back of the chair and draping it over her shoulders. Every room in the house seems to be freezing aside from the parlor and that's only because they keep the fire going constantly. Maybe Fitz and Mack need to look at the furnace again…though she highly doubts that's to blame for all the strange things going on in Hannah's house.

She misses the days when they were that easy to figure out.

The floorboards creak and Jemma turns her head away from the bay of monitors to see Skye coming to join her in the dining room. "Thought you could use some company."

"You don't have to do that, Skye." Jemma smiles. "You can try and get some sleep."

Skye scoffs, dragging a chair over beside Jemma's. "Yeah right. I doubt anyone is going to be getting any sleep for the time being."

This isn't very far from how Jemma has been thinking about things.

"Well staring at these monitors waiting for something to happen is certainly enough to put you to sleep." Jemma points out with forced joviality.

Skye draws her legs up, pressing her knees to her chest. Jemma has no idea how such a position is comfortable but she doesn't seem bothered. Instead, she just continues to regard Jemma with undisguised interest on her features. "I'm impressed."

Jemma looks at her cautiously. "Why?"

"Even after everything that happened last night, with Bobbi and…then with the bones…you're still a skeptic." Skye replies. "That's gotta take some effort."

"Well I wouldn't go that far." Jemma shrugs. "It's just…I've spent my entire life looking at the facts, studying data and plugging in numbers to get results. Everything has a cause and effect, a clear cut result with an explanation. That's how I like to see the world: neat, orderly and everything the way that it should be."

Skye rests her chin on her knees. "So how did you even get involved in something like this?" She questions. "If you don't believe in ghosts or the supernatural…why get wrapped up in ghost hunting."

Jemma rolls her eyes. "It's hardly considered ghost hunting." She assures Skye. "That makes it sound more glamorous than it is…more adventurous. Primarily we're in the business of disproving that ghosts exist. There's always an explanation…warped floorboards or faulty furnaces or an increase in infrasound or even the presence of carbon monoxide…things that take only a little bit of research and poking around to prove."

"And now…?"

"Now…" Jemma trails off, looking toward the monitors. Everything on the upper level of the house is still and quiet, making it hard to believe that there's anything nefarious going on at all. She doesn't know how to answer Skye's question.

Skye's features soften, sympathy tingeing her eyes. "Does it scare you?"

Jemma nods, surprising herself. "Yes…but not because I'm afraid of…ghosts or whatnot. But…I'm afraid of what this might mean. To not be able to explain something…to admit that we don't know everything…it's a bit terrifying."

Skye nods, resting her hand on Jemma's shoulder. "Brave new world." She teases.

Jemma smiles faintly. "'How many goodly creatures are there here.'" She quotes in response. "Shakespeare certainly would have believed in ghosts."

"Well if it's good enough for Shakespeare…" Skye trails off.

"I'll do my best." Jemma replies. "But no promises."

Skye smiles. "Baby steps."

They fall into silence and both turn their attention to the still and silent monitors. Jemma wonders if the strange occurrences from the night before were simply a freak occurrence, something they can just chalk up to odd and unexplainable and never have to deal with again. Or if there's something else coming, a repeat performance.

The idea is unsettling and Jemma shivers, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "So," she begins because the silence doesn't do much to help with the unsettled thoughts in her mind, "your parents…"

Perhaps this wasn't the best way to break the silence, now that she thinks about it.

But Skye looks at her expectantly; when it becomes clear that Jemma isn't going to add anything else or ask a more specific question, Skye just shrugs. "Yeah, your guess is as good as mine. They left me on the steps of an orphanage when I was a baby."

Jemma furrows her brow. "How awful."

"You want to know awful?" Skye quirks an eyebrow. "It was a Catholic orphanage."

It takes Jemma a second to realize what Skye is getting at. "Oh." She frowns. "I'm sure they were…not pleased with this unique ability of yours."

Skye snorts. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it." She mutters. "Let's just say I spent a lot of time in confessional."

Jemma makes a face and Skye smiles. "Yeah…it was…an interesting childhood."

"And now here you are." Jemma remarks, gesturing toward the house and all the equipment spread out before them.

Skye nods. "Yeah, here we are."

Their gazes linger and the silence between them seems charged with potential and Jemma feels a flutter of excitement in her chest. She turns her head back toward the monitors under the pretense of checking the screens but she's really just trying to hide the burgeoning smile on her lips.

It doesn't take long for her to remember why they're really here.

The images on the monitors start to flicker and grow fuzzy, like there's some interference with the transmission. One of the cameras upstairs goes off with a loud pop and immediately the monitors in the room go dark, shuddering off one by one. Jemma turns her head toward the parlor, trying to figure out if anyone else is experiencing any sort of weird occurrence.

Jemma gets to her feet, opening her mouth to call for Fitz, when Skye reaches out, grabbing her wrist tightly. When she looks down, Skye is staring down at the floor with wide eyes, her face pale and drawn. She's breathing slowly, heavily, her breath visible as it passes her lips.

"Skye?" Jemma whispers, her voice seemingly deserting her. "What's wrong?"

But Skye doesn't answer. Instead she just gets to her feet, pulling her hand away from Jemma's wrist and pushing her chair out behind her, stepping around the table. Her movements are strange and robotic and it reminds Jemma of earlier, when Skye was moving through the backyard, searching for something. But even still, she can tell that something is different; Skye isn't looking for something…the purpose here is different.

Jemma watches as Skye walks into the hallway and quickly follows after her; she's fallen silent because it's obvious that calling Skye's name and trying to figure out what's going on isn't making much of a different.

Skye reaches for the doorknob on the cellar, tugging on it; the door rattles but the deadbolt keeps the door from swinging open. Jemma feels a rush of relief, though she's not entirely sure why; she's suddenly filled with dread at the idea of seeing what's on the other side of the door.

Jemma can see that Skye is whispering something to herself, her lips moving rapidly, though she can't begin to make out the words. Her hands are fluttering nervously, her body trembling, her breathing growing heavier by the moment.

"Skye." Jemma tries again, stepping toward her and resting a hand on Skye's shoulder. "What is-"

But Skye jerks back from her touch immediately, her head whipping in Jemma's direction, her eyes wide with animalistic panic. But Jemma can tell that it's not her that Skye is seeing.

"No." Skye whispers, stepping backward, retreating until she connects with the wall behind her. Her hands fly up as if to ward off some invisible assault and she throws her head back, a scream tearing from her throat.

The sound is unlike anything Jemma has ever heard before; it's enough to make her blood run cold and she has to resist the urge to cover her ears with her hands and squeeze her eyes shut tightly. She forces herself to take a step forward, to try and rein in her own fear. "Skye!"

But Skye only screams again, a sound that seems to tear at Jemma's insides. Her head knocks backward against the wall and her eyes roll back into her head before her body becomes limp and she drops to the floor before Jemma can reach her.

"Skye!" Jemma kneels down beside her, lifting her up by the shoulders and resting Skye's head in her lap. She presses her fingers to the side of Skye's neck, relieved to find a steady pulse there. "Skye, wake up, Skye!"

Coulson and May are there beside her and when Jemma glances over her shoulder, she can see the others gathered in the hallway, varying expressions of fear, interest and confusion on their faces.

"What happened?" Coulson questions, looking from Jemma to Skye and back again, his bewilderment plain.

But all Jemma can do is shake her head. "I…I don't know."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They move Skye into the parlor and Jemma's eyes keep drifting in her direction as she talks, explaining the past several moments in as much detail as she can. Fitz and Mack immediately set about trying to figure out what happened to the monitors while Bobbi and Hunter scope out the second level of the house. The cellar door stays locked.

For the duration of the night, they all remain in the parlor, listening to the sounds of the house around them. The floors above creak with the sounds of footsteps and the occasional tinkle of the bells has never sounded so sinister. No one bothers to investigate; they all know exactly what they'll find upstairs. Nothing.

Jemma remains beside Skye, waiting for her to wake up. She tells herself it's out of impatience, that she's eager to learn what she saw and what caused such a reaction. But she has a feeling that that's not it entirely. Skye's face is still pale and drawn, even in sleep, and her eyes move continually beneath her eyelids. She's dreaming…or something more.

It's just before dawn when Jemma's head nods forward for the last time and she slips off to sleep, slumped against the legs of the loveseat, her fingers still loosely curled around Skye's hand. Thankfully, her mind is empty and the only thing that finally rouses her is the smell of coffee drifting in from the kitchen.

As Jemma's eyes flutter open, as she attempts to push away the disorientation that comes from too short a rest, her thoughts immediately return to Skye. The blankets where they laid Skye the night before are empty, as is the rest of the parlor.

Jemma can hear voices drifting in from the kitchen, the tones quiet and serious. But in the dining room sits Skye, staring at the blank monitors with a cup of coffee in her hands.

"Skye," Jemma can hear the relief in her own voice as she heads over to join her in the dining room, "you're…feeling better?"

Skye looks at her, a tired smile on her face. "I have a killer headache." She shrugs. "But yeah, I guess it could be worse."

Jemma sits down beside her, giving her the once over, as though she needs to verify for herself that everything is how it should be. Skye certainly looks no worse for wear; she doesn't look like she should have been capable of making the screams that Jemma heard the night before. The sounds that sounded like they belonged to someone being murdered. Not that that's a very pleasant thought.

"So," Skye expression lightens up somewhat, "you were worried about me, huh?"

"I…I'm not sure what you mean." Jemma clears her throat, trying to keep her face impassive.

Skye shrugs. "Bobbi just said that you were worried about me. That you wouldn't leave my side all night." There's a teasing element to Skye's tone but the smile on her face seems more sincere.

Jemma frowns. Stupid Bobbi. Obviously her meddling knows no bounds. She sighs. "Well…of course I was worried about you." She grumbles. "What happened last night…I've never seen anything like that. I didn't know if you were hurt or…nothing made any sense and then you didn't wake up…"

"I'm okay." Skye assures her, reaching over and taking her hand. "Stuff like that…it's happened before."

"But what _did_ happen?" Jemma questions impatiently. "What did you…see?"

The light seems to disappear from Skye's eyes, her expression growing faraway. Like she's remembering. "I…" But she shakes her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. "It doesn't matter. We need to go into the cellar."

It's impressive how much dread can fill a person at the mention of a simple, innocent word. "The cellar?" Jemma repeats. "But you've spent all this time telling us _not_ to go into the cellar and-"

"I know." Skye gives her hand a squeeze. "But I think that's the root of everything."

Jemma frowns, glancing over her shoulder and toward the hallway. She can't see the door from here but the knowledge of its existence is more than enough to make her stomach turn. "Wonderful."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once Skye informs the rest of the team that they need to explore the bottom level of the house, they start acting like they're trying to audition for the next remake of _Ghostbusters_. Jemma is glad to see that the team still seems to be governed primarily by logic and the thrill of adventure, despite all of the strange things they've seen and experienced over the past several days. It makes it easier for her to take a deep breath and steady herself, to calm her own fears and anxieties. Though it still seems hard to ignore the worry that's churning in her stomach at the idea of having to go down the steps. Obviously Skye has gotten to her more than she would like to admit.

Coulson and May take the lead, holding the camping lanterns high over their heads in an effort to shed as much like as they can across the stairs and the floor of the cellar. Of course the light switch doesn't seem to be working, which doesn't surprise Jemma all that much after everything else. Fitz and Mack both have high speed cameras resting on their shoulders as they troop down the stairs, moving the lens around in an effort to capture what they can in the sweeping shadows.

Jemma holds tightly to the flashlight in her hands, her knuckles white against the strain. It's far colder down in the cellar than it is anywhere else in the house and there's a pervasive smell of mustiness that fills her nose, along with something else that she can't quite identify. A sharper, earthy scent.

Skye and Hannah bring up the rear of their procession and Jemma is honestly impressed that Hannah even conceded to coming down into the cellar. The deadbolt on the door is definitely new; there's no doubt that Hannah was equally as reluctant to come downstairs as Skye. But it seems like the prospect of being left upstairs alone is equally as unsettling. Safety in numbers and all that.

"This sucks." Hunter gripes, shaking his flashlight in an attempt to steady the flicking beam. "The people who lived here before never heard of electricity?"

"I don't think it was a priority of theirs." Skye informs him and the fact that they all sound like they're just taking a walk in the park makes it easier for Jemma to keep heading down the steps in the near perfect dark.

Finally they reach the cement floor and Jemma sweeps her flashlight across the room, feeling a surge of trepidation. The beam plays across the assorted objects you would expect to find in a cellar: old furniture, cardboard boxes, rusty tools…everything covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. In one corner, she can see a set of wooden doors above a stunted staircase. She assumes they lead outside, though the fact that there's a chain looped around the handles doesn't seem all that promising. It doesn't appear that anyone has been down here in years; the only tracks on the floor are theirs.

"I'm not getting any readings." Bobbi remarks, squinting at the screen of the EMF monitor. "But at least the machine is still working."

After the luck they've had with technology recently, Jemma is going to consider that something of a victory.

Hannah is standing on the last stair, whipping her flashlight around, creating a disconcerting sensation in the cellar. Skye is standing a few inches from her, her eyes peering in the dark corners that have yet to be illuminated by the flickering light.

"This is the right place." Skye says decisively, her voice quiet. "This is where they used to do it."

"I'm sure I'm going to regret asking this but…do what?" Mack questions, his brow furrowed like he's bracing himself for some sort of physical blow. He seems to be sticking close to Fitz, which Jemma finds pretty comical given their size difference.

Skye steps deeper into the cellar, pointing her flashlight at a stack of what Jemma assumes is nothing but junk: a few boxes and a couch covered in a sheet. She nudges the sheet with the toe of her boot, seemingly uninterested. "The people who had this house before Hannah's grandparents. The house was empty for a while before they moved in, right?"

Hannah nods, swallowing before she can answer. "Yes…it was empty for about ten years? I think they got it cheap at an auction."

"The people who lived here first…they used to find children who were out playing by themselves…in parks, backyards, it didn't matter. They used to find the kids that they thought no one would miss and they brought them back here." Skye explains. "They let them stay in the rooms upstairs."

Jemma looks toward the rest of her colleagues, trying to gauge their reactions to Skye's story. May's face is impassive, as always, the lantern in her hand still held high, casting them in a protective glow of light. All eyes seem to be on Skye, waiting with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety to hear what she's going to say next.

Jemma is already pretty sure that she knows the answer.

"They believed…there were rituals they needed to do…spells." Skye continues, her voice tight in her throat. "They needed the children…they killed them…"

"Stop." Hannah says softly and the beam of her flashlight swings upward toward the ceiling as she tries to cover her ears. "No more. This house…this house is evil."

Skye falls silent; all she can do is nod.

"How do you know all this?" May questions and Jemma appreciates the dubious look on her face. "It all sounds like…a campfire story."

Skye gives her a smile. "You're telling me." She mutters.

They watch as Skye crosses the room toward the darker part of the cellar; Jemma trains her flashlight on Skye, watching as she presses her hand to a boarded up section of the wall. She tugs the board comes away easily, puffing out a cloud of dust as it clatters to the floor. A few more tumble free and Jemma is pretty sure that it wouldn't take long for them to make short work of clearing a hole big enough for them to step through. Assuming they wanted to.

Skye shines her light through the small hole that she's made, "This where they used to kill the children and conduct the rituals. And when they were done…"

"They buried them in the backyard." Jemma supplies quietly, unable to help herself.

Skye looks back at her and nods.

Coulson comes to stand beside Skye, holding the lantern through the hole and into the room. "There are…some things…" He glances back over his shoulder. "Let's get the rest of this wall down."

Mack makes a face. "Really?" He clears his throat. "Is that really the best idea?"

But his protests fall on deaf ears. Jemma helps Hunter and Coulson pull the rest of the boards aside, unable to contain her curiosity. Things like ghosts and hauntings are still too intangible to measure but that doesn't mean that actual horrors haven't taken place here.

There's a table in the center of the room, old and wooden and scarred. There's a groove down at the foot of the table and, distressingly, the wood is stained dark in several places. But there are several other items in the room that seem equally as unnerving, if not more so. Hunter's flashlight plays across the rusted tools still hanging on the walls, swaying gently even though they haven't gone close enough to bump them. There are several shelves stuck into the wall and Jemma walks over, running her finger along the wood; the dust is thick and the air smells of mildew and something else she can't put her finger on.

One item in particular catches Jemma's eye: a book, pressed back against the wall and hidden behind a grimy old jar. She slides it across the shelf, trying to balance her flashlight and the journal in her hands. The dust makes her nose itch and her eyes water and when she tries to turn the pages, most of them stick together.

"I wouldn't do that." Skye is beside her suddenly, taking Jemma by surprise. "You shouldn't touch anything."

Jemma doesn't put the book aside. "It's just a journal." She points out. "And the pages are so badly water damaged, you can hardly read anything."

"That's probably for the best." Skye says. "It's like you've never seen a single horror movie before."

Scoffing, Jemma rolls her eyes. "Why would I want to watch movies like that?" She mutters. "I live them."

Skye doesn't disagree. "I think if we start reading through that book, we definitely will be."

Jemma keeps the book, turning back toward the table in the center and to where Coulson and Hunter are squeezed in beside her. Bobbi is standing just outside of the room, pointing the camera in at them, an expression of horrified fascination on her face.

"We should go back upstairs." Skye says softly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes are roving around the room, looking like she believes something is going to jump out at them at any moment.

"Shit." Bobbi grumbles, pulling them camera away from her face. "The charge just gave out."

Jemma frowns, looking back at Skye. Her face is pale but her eyes are at least clear and focused; the last thing they need is a repeat of the night before, especially in this particular setting.

"Perhaps that's a good idea." Jemma mutters, starting back toward the entrance of the small room.

No one seems to protest the suggestion that they should retreat upstairs. As soon as they're back on the main level of the house, Jemma feels a bit of the weight start to leak out of her shoulders and some of the chill seems to disappear from the air.

Once they've all regrouped back in the dining room, Jemma sees that she's not the only person who has brought up a little souvenir. Coulson and Hunter are carrying several of the rusted tools and one of the jars half full of cloudy liquid.

"What are you doing?" Skye questions, as she watches Coulson set the tools out on the table. "Why did you bring that stuff upstairs?"

Coulson gives her a patient look. "There's obviously something going on here. Something real, not just supernatural. It's bigger than all that now. Those bones in the backyard, these tools…we need to contact the police."

Hannah snorts, rolling her eyes. "Good luck. As soon as they realize that you're talking about _this_ house they'll laugh you right out of the building."

Fitz gives her a sympathetic look. "Bad experience?"

"Try experiences." Hannah mumbles.

"It's still worth a shot." Coulson says. "We can't just ignore this evidence…ghosts or no ghosts, visions notwithstanding. This is real, solid proof that something terrible happened here. We can't be the only ones involved."

No one can argue with this logic. Not even Skye, though she keeps eyeing the objects on the table. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

Jemma doesn't know what possesses her to do it but she reaches over, taking Skye's hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. Skye looks just as surprised as Jemma feels but neither move to pull away for several seconds. This is the warmest that Jemma has felt in days.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Coulson leaves May in charge when he goes, taking with him the old burlap wrapped around tiny bones. After he leaves, they try to act like nothing has changed, like this is just like any other job they've ever done before, but Jemma can feel the difference. It seems to have filled the house like an electrical charge, like the air before a coming storm.

Skye refuses to go into the dining room, unable to stand being around the objects that they removed from the cellar. That includes the journal that Jemma brought up with her, which is proving to be a source of endless fascination. She still can't peel most of the pages apart and the ones that she can see are crammed from top to bottom, side to side, with scrawls of handwriting that she can't quite make out.

"It was her journal, you know." Jemma looks up, surprised at the intrusion on her reverie. She's even more surprised to find that the speaker is Hannah.

"Whose?" Jemma questions, closing the book and setting it aside.

Hannah's eyes remain on the dark cover. "The woman who lived here before."

Jemma looks at her quizzically. "How do you know?"

It takes Hannah several seconds to answer, blinking and seeming to refocus on Jemma. "I just know?" She shrugs, suddenly looking more worried than anything else. "I mean…don't you think that makes the most sense?"

"Yes, I suppose." Jemma mutters noncommittally, though she'd been thinking the same thing since they found the hidden room in the cellar.

Hannah turns away, muttering to herself as she moves into the kitchen. Briefly, Jemma thinks about returning her focus toward the journal and starting to attempt to decode whatever is written there but the idea suddenly sounds incredibly unappealing when she's sitting in the dining room all by herself. So she gets up, heading into the parlor and sitting down on the loveseat beside Skye. Skye is studying the flames dancing in the fireplace, ignoring the sounds of Bobbi and Hunter bickering and Mack and Fitz trying to figure out how to ensure that the equipment stops malfunctioning.

"Something is wrong." Skye says without looking over at her. Jemma starts to protest but Skye doesn't give her the chance. "You can feel it too, it's not just me."

Jemma falls silent because Skye is right. It's a general feeling of unease that seems to be growing with each passing moment, burrowing between her ribs and threatening to expand.

Skye looks over at her, her eyes round with worry. "We shouldn't be here." She says softly.

Jemma musters a smile, setting her hand on Skye's knee. "It'll be all right." She assures her. "Coulson will be back with the police and we'll start to get all of this sorted out."

"I thought the only thing you guys had to do was prove whether or not there was supernatural activity present." Skye protests. "I think you've done that."

And while this is normally true of the other jobs they've worked before, Jemma just shrugs. She looks over at Hannah, who is walking into the parlor with a mug in her hands. "That doesn't help Hannah though, does it?"

Skye follows her line of sight, frowning. It's obvious that there's something on her mind, something more that she wants to say but whatever it is, Skye keeps it to herself. Jemma can't figure out if she's grateful for this or not.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Coulson is gone but that's no reason not to do this right." May tells them frankly when they're all –minus Hannah- gathered in the kitchen as the sun starts dipping below the trees. "I don't know about you all but I'm ready to get the hell out of this house. So we're going to take the cameras and the equipment and get whatever footage we can so we can leave as soon as Coulson gets back and stick Hannah in a hotel room somewhere."

All of this sounds very well and good to Jemma. She ignores the dubious look on Skye's face, deciding that she'd rather not know what's going through her mind right about now.

"Bobbi and I will start upstairs and move our way down." May continues. "Fitz and Mack, I want you outside with the tech. We've never tried that before. Jemma and Hunter, you're in charge of the monitors. And Skye…" She trails off, looking at younger woman. "Do whatever it is that you do."

Skye gives May a salute and then a thumbs-up. "Aye-aye Captain."

"And someone should keep an eye on Hannah." May adds absently, almost as though annoyed by this particular side thought.

Jemma glances in the direction of the parlor, the last place where she saw Hannah. She doubts that she's still there now, given the fact that Hannah has been listlessly pacing around since Coulson left, like the idea of sitting still for more than a few seconds is impossible to fathom.

Hannah has definitely been acting strange…stranger. Not that they don't all have reasons for being a little on edge.

Jemma does a bit of pacing of her own, studying the monitors as she walks back and forth across the dining room, too preoccupied to sit still. Suddenly Hannah's pacing doesn't seem all that strange. There's nothing to see on the monitors right now anyway so she's not sure why she's even bothering; May and Bobbi are still getting the equipment ready to take upstairs and there's no cameras outside to track Fitz and Mack's progress.

Her eyes fall on the weathered old journal sitting on the edge of the table and she can't resist the urge to pick it up. A chill passing through her and Jemma leaving the dining room, taking the journal with her as she crosses into the parlor.

Hannah is sitting on one side of the couch, her elbows pressing into her thighs, muttering to herself. Skye and Hunter are both ignoring her though Jemma has the feeling that more of Skye's attention is on Hannah's than she wants to let on. Skye looks at her as Jemma takes a seat beside her on the sofa, furrowing her brow. "Again with that thing?"

Jemma shrugs. "I'm trying to decipher this writing." She says, though really what she means is _what else is there to do_?

Hannah gets to her feet abruptly, leaving the parlor and disappearing down the hallway. Upstairs, Jemma can hear the sound of May and Bobbi's footsteps and the sound of something else, something heavier, moving through the walls.

The sooner they get out of this place the better. Jemma is definitely not going to regret being done with this job.

Something groans and squeaks above their heads; rusty hinges or perhaps another peevish spirit emerging from the walls. Jemma would like to believe it's the former but one never can be too sure anymore.

Especially not when holding a decades old journal full of questionable writings by an assumed child murderer.

A chill fills the room and the flames of the fire flicker, shuddering in a wind only they can feel. Skye looks up, her eyes narrowed and far away, a look that Jemma has not come to appreciate. Hunter gets up from his spot in the arm chair, grumbling to himself as he heads toward the fire place in an effort to rekindle the flames. There seems to be a sort of unspoken refusal to let the fire die out, like that is somehow the only thing that keeps the parlor safe and inhabitable.

Hannah walks back into the parlor, her gait slow and jerky, her eyes fixed at some point straight ahead. She walks toward the fire place, as though intending to help Hunter stoke the flames.

Skye is on her feet suddenly. "Hunter!"

Her voice rings out just as Hannah seizes the fire poker, bringing it down across the curve of Hunter's back. He lets out a surprised grunt, thankfully stumbling to the side instead of pitching forward into the fireplace.

"Hannah!" Jemma shouts, jumping to her feet, the journal thumping to the floor. "What are you doing!"

She doesn't expect Hannah to respond and she's not disappointed. Hannah just pulls her arm back again and the poker hits Hunter solidly in the ribs.

Both Jemma and Skye seem to reach Hannah simultaneously, grabbing onto her arms and pulling her backward. The poker clatters to the ground and she twists in their grasp, attempting to wrench herself free. She throws her head back and the sound that comes out of her is more animal than human.

The parlor doors swing shut, rattling the glass as they slam together. Jemma looks back but of course there's no one there. Nothing but an empty hallway.

Hannah twists her arm free from Jemma's grasp, lunging toward Skye with a snarl and her fingers hooked like claws. Skye manages to duck, keeping her hold on Hannah even as the other woman forces her backward. Jemma grabs a fistful of her sweater, trying to pull her back and off of Skye before Skye looses her footing and they both go crashing to the floor.

Instead, they manage to wrestle Hannah down to the ground despite the thrashing of her body and the shrieks tearing from her throat. Jemma looks up at Skye. "What's wrong with her?" She can hear the frightened confusion in her voice.

"This house." Skye grunts as Hannah bucks against her, driving her shoulder into her chest. "She's…it's got her."

A part of Jemma feels like she's watching all of this unfold from somewhere outside of herself, like she's in the middle of a dream perhaps or very involved in a story that someone else is telling her. It seems impossible to believe that she's actively doing this, that she's holding Hannah down to the ground and listening to the walls knocking and the glass doors rattling like someone is trying to open them even though there's no one on the other side. Her breath is twisting past her lips in plumes and it feels like there's someone else in the room with them, like there are eyes everywhere, watching her, waiting.

Hannah throws her head back again, snarling at them. Her eyes are rolling around in her head, wild and feral, like a crazed animal and Jemma knows that if she were to twist away from them, that Hannah's fingers would close around her throat and wouldn't let go again.

"What do we do?" Jemma whispers, her words nearly inaudible over of the snarling and gasping coming from Hannah. "What do we do?"

Skye pushes Hannah back down, keeping her hand splayed against her back. Hannah's body heaves and twists beneath Skye's touch but, for the moment at least, she seems subdued.

"We have to get rid of it." Skye says, her eyes searching the room, looking just as wild as Hannah's. "The diary…that's the connection."

Jemma whips her head around, spotting the book laying open on the floor where she dropped it moments ago. "The diary?" She questions. "But that's impossible. It's just a book!"

"We can discuss semantics later." Skye grumbles. "Just trust me."

Hesitation floods through Jemma as she looks between the journal and back to Hannah. She can't reach the book without relinquishing her hold on Hannah but she doubts that Skye can hold her on her own.

"Go!" Skye shouts as Hannah starts to push herself up again. "Now!"

Jemma lets go and lunges for the journal and as her fingers close around it, Hannah screams, throwing Skye off and scrambling toward Jemma. She doesn't get very far before Skye grabs onto her again, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding on tightly. "What are you waiting for?" Skye pants, attempting to toss her hair out of her face so she can look at Jemma. "Destroy it!"

Jemma looks toward the fire and Hannah immediately grows still, limp and loose in Skye's arms. "Dr. Simmons?" Her voice is soft, devoid of any trace of the snarling, howling thing she was just moments ago. "Please, don't do that. You're here to help me, right?"

Jemma feels herself pause, uncertain and confused. Hannah's eyes are searching hers, desperate and lost.

"Don't listen to her." Hannah presses. "If you want to help…please don't listen to her…"

"Now!" Skye's voice snaps Jemma out of her daze, pulling her eyes away from Hannah's. "Do it now!"

"No!" Hannah snarls, whirling back toward Skye and raking her nails across her face.

Jemma throws the journal into the fire and Hannah screams again, wordless and desperate, the sound chilling Jemma's blood. But then she abruptly falls silent, collapsing onto the floor with Skye on top of her. The flames of the fire leap forward, twisting around the book and licking the bricks of the fireplace. Jemma squints against the sudden brightness, reaching for Hunter, helping him wobble to his feet.

"What happened?" He grumbles, wincing and wrapping an arm around his side.

"Later." Jemma turns back toward Skye. "We have bigger concerns right now."

Skye looks no worse for wear aside from the scratches across her face and she snorts, shaking her head. "No kidding." She grumbles, grabbing Hannah under her arms and dragging her backward. "We need to get out of here."

It doesn't take Jemma long to realize the cause of Skye's sudden impatience to leave the house. The fire licks outside of the fireplace, twisting around the leg of the arm chair and igniting the blankets they've been using to sleep on. Between everything in this room, the place is going to go up in minutes.

Jemma hurries toward the doors, trying to push them open. They refuse, steadfastly remaining closed even when she throws her shoulder against them. She slams her palm against the wood desperately but it doesn't help the situation.

The room already feels impossibly hot and even though Jemma knows it's not possible, not yet, she feels like the fire is licking at her heels, breathing down her back. She turns away from the doors, grabbing the EMF monitor that has been resting in the room since Fitz discarded it earlier. She slams it into a square of glass as hard as she can, sending shards raining to the ground. Jemma twists her hand through, grabbing onto the handles from the outside and twisting.

It doesn't make a difference. The doors remain closed, like there's something heavy pressing against them from the other side.

"Keep trying." Skye says, searching for something else they can use. "It'll be okay."

It doesn't feel like it's going to be okay. The smoke filling the room stings Jemma's eyes and claws at her throat and they're trapped, impossibly so. They're going to die in here and her parents are just going to roll their eyes and say "well, you shouldn't have been involved in such foolishness" and she can't blame them in the least.

Movement in the hallway catches her eye and Jemma feels her heart leap into her throat. "Fitz!" She slams her palm into the doors once more. "Help us!"

Fitz comes rushing over, his face a picture of fear and confusion. He grabs the handles, pulling on the doors as hard as he can but his efforts are about as successful as Jemma's have been until this point.

Skye and Hunter join her in pressing against the door and even though Jemma can hear the wood starting to groan and the glass beginning to crack, it doesn't seem like they're making any progress.

"Please." Skye says softly, her eyes fixated on a spot in the corner. "Please."

Jemma coughs, closing her eyes against the sting of the smoke. The glass under her palm cracks, biting into her skin but it hardly seems to matter. The only thing she can focus on is the heat in the room.

And then the doors give way, heaving themselves open suddenly and sending them all tumbling into the hallway. In another situation, Jemma thinks she might waste her time laughing at herself or apologizing to Fitz for bowling him over; she thinks she might ask him why his forehand and hands are smeared with dirt and why his attire is so rumpled and mussed. She hardly cares at the moment. There's not time for any of that right now.

Instead, Jemma just scrambles to her feet, helping Skye grab onto Hannah and pull her out of the parlor. The fire is peeling the wallpaper, scorching the ceiling and traveling across the carpet with frightening speed. They need to get out of here. Fast. And that feels like the understatement of the century.

"Where are May and Bobbi?" Jemma questions, peering through the darkness for the rest of the team. "And Mack?"

"Upstairs." Fitz points, swallowing and trying to steady his breathing. "They were…we couldn't find them…he went to look…the fire…"

Hunter starts toward the stairs. "We can't leave them." He says decisively and even though Jemma wants to point out that it's pretty much the worse idea in the world to go upstairs when there happens to be a fire raging on the lower level of a house, she can't exactly disagree with him.

Fitz looks indecisive but he takes a step toward Hunter anyway. "You guys go out the-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before the cellar door suddenly blows open, slamming against the wall, the knob burying itself into the plaster. He turns to face the gaping doorway, his eyes growing wide. Fitz opens his mouth but no sound makes it past his lips. Jemma nearly can't believe her eyes when some unseen hand seems to grab at him, pulling him off his feet and down into the cellar and out of sight.

"Fitz!" Jemma yells, taking a step toward the cellar. Skye grabs onto her, holding her back, ignoring her protests.

The cellar door slams itself closed once again, sealing them off from Fitz.

"We have to help him!" Jemma turns back around to face Skye. "We can't just stand here!"

Skye only shakes her head, looking utterly at a loss.

"What the hell is going on down here?" They turn toward the sound of May's voice and Jemma feels relief flood through her at the sight of the woman limping down the stairs, scowling so deeply that she worries that her face will be stuck in that expression forever. "Where the hell is Fitz?"

Both Skye and Jemma look back toward the cellar and that seems to be the only answer that May needs. She grabs the knob but, predictably, the door stays where it is.

The fire is spreading out of the parlor, climbing across the floor and up the foyer. Their exit from the house is about to be sealed off and even though the completely rational part of Jemma is busy asking her what the hell she's still doing standing there, she feels rooted in place. They can't leave Fitz.

May throws her shoulder into the door, sending a splinter zigzagging across the wood. She hits it again and again until the door starts to give way, providing them with an entrance into the dark.

"Hurry." May grunts, rolling her shoulder. "Now."

There's hardly opportunity or cause to argue with May. Hunter and Bobbi help Skye with Hannah, throwing her arms over their shoulders so they can carry her more easily between the two of them. Jemma follows after Mack, nearly stumbling in the darkness; the cellar seems even more unforgiving and unwelcoming now that they don't have a single flashlight between them. She feels someone grab onto her hand and there's no doubt in her mind that it's Skye's fingers curling around her own.

Jemma considers it some sort of miracle that they manage to find Fitz so easily, slumped against one of the walls in the corner, wobbly but able to stand on his own. Of course, none of this helps them now that they're down in a dark cellar with a fire spreading above them, successfully trapping them down below. At this point, the joy of finding Fitz only lasts so long. At least they're all going to burn to death together now.

"No," Jemma breathes out suddenly, feeling excitement flood her chest, "the doors."

Jemma is certain that she trips over every piece of junk in the cellar as she pulls Skye along with her, making a beeline for the storm doors that she saw earlier in the day. She pulls her hand away from Skye's to feel above her head, finally wrapping her fingers around the chain looped through the handles.

"We need something." Jemma looks back in the direction that she judges Skye to be standing. "Something that can break these off."

Skye and May start rummaging through the covered objects cluttering the cellar around them. Jemma pulls on the chains even though she knows its fruitless; she's unwilling to take her hands away, certain that if she does she won't be able to find the doors again.

Finally Skye is there beside her again. "You might want to move your hands." She advises only seconds before Jemma hears something metallic rattling against the links. She pulls her hands away, trying to draw in deep breathes to settle her pounding heart and rein in her fear.

Unfortunately standing around and just waiting is hardly the best way to make herself feel better.

The sound of the chains dropping to the floor is music to Jemma's ears and she lets out a shuddery breath, reaching up to help Skye pull open the storm doors. She can feel the cold air against her face and smell the sharp scent of pine and smoke.

They all pull themselves outside and Jemma crawls only far enough away from the doors that nothing can reach out and grab her before she lies back down in the grass, sighing and closing her eyes. Her sides heave as she struggles to catch her breath, listening to the others doing the same around her. She opens one eye and sees Skye there beside her, staring up at the stars and she reaches for her hand, holding onto her tightly.

She doesn't let go, even when they all get to their feet and finally make their way around the front of the house, standing in the driveway as they watch the house continue to burn. Coulson has the van with him, leaving them with no where to go and nothing to do but stare at the house and the smoke billowing up toward the night sky.

Eventually Hannah wakes up, seeming utterly confused as to what has happened over the past several hours. They don't bother to mention how she turned Hunter into a piñata or tried to scratch Skye's face off, figuring that the sight of your house and possessions burning to the ground is more than enough to process at once. Hannah, however, seems pleased to see the place reduced to smoldering ashes.

It's nearly dawn by the time Coulson returns with the police and fire engines in tow, though the house has long sense burned itself out, leaving a charred, smoking skeleton of what used to be.

Coulson can't hide his surprise as he looks from the house to his haggard and bedraggled team. "I leave you all alone for a few hours and this is what you get up to?"

"It's about time you showed up." May grumbles, walking up to him. She holds out her hand and Coulson drops the keys into her palm without missing a beat. "Hotel, now."

That is definitely something that Jemma isn't going to complain with. A bed and a shower and heat sounds pretty heavenly right now.

Jemma can feel Skye's hesitation even without looking over at her and she gives her hand a squeeze, tugging her forward. "You have somewhere better to be?" She questions, giving Skye a dubious look.

"Well, you guys…" Skye shrugs, looking forward the van uncertainly.

Jemma rolls her eyes. "Skye, don't be ridiculous." She says firmly, pulling Skye forward once more. "Besides, I feel like there are still several important conversations that we need to have."

Skye climbs into the back of the van, pulling the door shut behind her and settling herself between Jemma and Bobbi. "So, does this mean that you're a true believer now?" Skye questions, grinning at her.

"Ask me again in the morning." Jemma mutters, resting her head on Skye's shoulder. "When I won't be so inclined to say yes."

Skye smirks, making herself comfortable against Jemma's side. She figures that this is a pretty nice place to spend the next several days. At least, until Coulson comes up with another wild goose chase for them to embark on.

She might have to ask him what the company policy is on vacation time.


End file.
